The Unwilling Champion
by Undur
Summary: What if Harry created an impression on someone prior to being entered into the Triwizard Tournament? Would that person believe in Harry? Just how much can one person affect another's life? My own version of Book 4.
1. Chapter 1

**********Author's Note: Italics indicates the characters speaking in French**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters were all created by J.K. Rowling**

**Chapter 1:**

Silence. That was the first thing the boy noticed as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. A silence only broken by the crackling of fire. Lifting his head, the boy took in the deserted remains of the campgrounds burning around him. Why was he lying on the ground? As he adjusted his glasses and tried to recall what had happened, he became aware of a dull throbbing coming from his forehead. Raising his hand, he felt a warm stickiness and quickly pulled back his hand, glancing at it. Blood. Instantly, he remembered. Masked men had attacked the campgrounds where he and his friends had been residing after the Quidditch World Cup. He had been woken up by Mr. Weasley who told him to flee with his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. As soon as they had left their tents, they got caught up in the stampede of people fleeing the campgrounds. Harry remembered getting separated from Ron and Hermione as the terrified mob fled towards the forest. While trying to work his way in the direction that Ron and Hermione had gone, Harry had been knocked over and trampled on by the mass of people, leading to the situation in which he now found himself.

Groaning slightly, he stood up and surveyed his surroundings once more. He was just at the edge of the forest bordering the campgrounds. Glancing towards the forest, Harry wondered where his friends had gone and what had happened to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Mr. Weasley who had all gone to help out the Ministry. He spun around as footsteps and laughter reached his ears, interrupting his musings. After quickly hiding behind the remains of a huge tent, he slowly peeked out.

There, about twenty meters away from Harry, was a group of masked men who he recognized as the ones responsible for the destruction of everything in sight. As he watched, one of them raised his wand shouted a spell.

"_MORSMORDRE!"_

A green light erupted from the wand and shot into the clear night sky. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of light, Harry gaped at the colossal emerald skull painted on the star filled canvas. As he continued to stare at the image with a sense of foreboding, the image of a snake, painted in the same eerie green light, slowly slithered from the mouth like a tongue with a life of its own. The group's laughter faded as they all looked up at the ghastly image in the sky.

Suddenly, the group quieted as one of the men said something and pointed a few meters to Harry's left. Looking where the man pointed, Harry noticed a small girl standing there staring at the green light with wide, fear-filled blue eyes. Turning back towards the masked men, he saw that they had begun to move towards the silver-haired girl. He quickly reached for his wand, only to find that it was not in his pocket. Clueless as to what to do, Harry could only watch as the men got closer and closer to the girl. Twenty meters became fifteen. As one of the men kicked the remains of a tent out of his way, the girl became aware that she was not alone. Yet, she did not run. Standing there, paralyzed by fright, she did the only thing she could think of. She screamed. As she screamed in fear, something clicked in Harry and before he realized it, he was sprinting across the small distance between him and the girl. Startled by his sudden appearance, the masked men reflexively shot a series of curses at him. Ducking his head as red and green lights flashed past him, Harry barely slowed down as he picked up the girl by the waist, her body bent into a U-shape by the momentum of his run. Veering towards forest and the safety of the trees, he continued to run, the ominous lights flying past him only spurring him on. As he got closer to the trees, he saw figures running towards him. With a great sense of relief, he realized that the figures were Mr. Weasley along with his elder sons as well as a shorter black-haired man.

"Keep running Harry! Get to the trees!" Shouted Mr. Weasley as he ran past him, shooting jets of red light towards the oncoming masked men.

Seeing the figures charging towards them, the masked men quickly Disapparated away in a series of loud cracks. Meanwhile, Harry stumbled into the cover of the trees, still carrying the silver-haired girl. Ron and Hermione were instantly by his side, soon followed by the Weasley twins and Ginny.

"Harry, mate, what happened to you? Why is your forehead covered in blood?" asked Ron with a worried expression.

"Oh I can't believe this! How did we get split up?! How did you manage to run into the Death Eaters? Did you see who cast the Dark Mark?" said a frantic Hermione, "Are you hurt anywhere? And who is—"

"Wait, Death Eaters? The Dark Mark?" interrupted Harry. "What are Death Eaters? What is this Dark Mark?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves, and the Dark Mark is their sign," said Bill as he returned from chasing the Death Eater. "And why do you have a little girl in your arms? She can't be more than 8 years-old."

"Oh, her…? I saw the Death Eaters approaching her and I just instinctively grabbed her and ran." Harry replied as he gently set the girl on her feet.

The girl simply stared at all of them mutely with wide, blue eyes, still in shock of what had. As Harry opened his mouth to ask for her name, a worried voice cut through his thoughts.

"Gabrielle!"

"Fleur!" the small girl finally exited her shocked state, running towards a tall, willowy witch with silver hair.

Embracing her younger sister tightly, Fleur looked down at her with warmth in her eyes. As Harry looked at her, he finally noticed her breathtaking beauty, not unlike that of the veela from the World Cup. However, even with the striking resemblance to the veela mascots, his mind did not go blank as it had prior. Instead, he still retained full control of himself and only saw before him a woman whose beauty seemed to be from a dream. As Fleur looked up and surveyed the group standing before her, her quizzical glance quickly became one of distaste and disgust as she looked to Harry's left. Glancing to his left, Harry saw Ron ogling the sisters with a dazed expression on his face. Quickly jabbing his friend in the side with his elbow, Harry turned back to the silvery blonde witch. As his emerald green eyes met her deep blue eyes he suddenly forgot what he had been about to say. A slightly accented voice quickly brought his attention back to the present.

"_Fleur_! _Gabrielle_!" the short, black haired man from earlier jogged up to them. "_We have to go now, your mother is really worried._"

Glancing once more at the messy black haired boy with glasses who had most likely saved her sister from something terrible, she simply said "Zank you."

With that, she turned on her heels and followed the man who was presumably her father, gently pulling her sister behind her. As they disappeared into the forest, the Weasleys all turned to Harry and started talking at the same time.

"Blimey Harry, saving some veela?" questioned Fred and George in a somewhat awed voice.

"You look terrible…" murmured a worried looking Ginny.

"So what happened to you?" inquired Charlie as he clapped Harry on the shoulder, causing him to wince in pain.

"You hurt anywhere mate?" asked Ron.

"Oh, Harry, I have your wand," said Hermione as she handed Harry back his wand who gratefully pocketed it, "It fell out of your jacket earlier while at the stadium so I picked it up."

"Okay, there aren't any Portkeys available at the moment," announced Mr. Weasley as he approached them, preventing Harry from answering the slew of questions. "So you lot just rest here for a bit. We should be able to get a Portkey back in a few hours."

After cleaning the blood and dirt off of his face, Harry gingerly lowered his body to the ground, still sore from being trampled on earlier, and leaned back against the trunk of a tree along with Ron and Hermione. Staring through a gap in the treetops at the Dark Mark still glistening ominously in the night sky, he reflected on the hectic activities of the past twenty-four hours. An evening that had started with a fun and exciting Quidditch game had suddenly turned into a scene straight from a nightmare. As he finally realized just how much he had gone through over the duration of that hectic night, he closed his eyes. Before long, his exhaustion crept up on him and he soon entered a dreamless slumber.

**Author's Notes:**

**This is actually my first piece of Fan Fiction, so please tell me how it is/what I should work on.**

**Thanks,**

**Undur**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Beams of sunlight pierced through the early morning mist as the sun crested the hill, casting long shadows on grassy fields below. Slowly, tiredly, the group descended the hill in silence.

"What time is it…?" asked a weary Fred as they stumbled along.

"About a quarter past 6," replied Mr. Weasley after a quick glance at his watch. "Your mother is probably still sleeping, so be sure not to wake her when we get back."

As it turned out, not only was Mrs. Weasley awake, but she was sitting in the living room occasionally glancing up from the Daily Prophet to check the large grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room. The moment Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys entered the house, they were greeted by a loud shout.

"Oh thank goodness! You are all safe!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley as she jumped out her chair and ran into Mr. Weasley's arms, dropping the newspaper on the ground in her haste.

"Everything's fine Molly," said Mr. Weasley, gently patting her back. "Everything is fine."

Moving past them, Harry walked to where Mrs. Weasley had been sitting and bent down to pick up the newspaper lying on the ground. There, on the front page, was a black-and-white photograph of the skull and snake that had painted the night sky at the World Cup. Above the image, in large bold letters, read the headline: _MINISTRY SECURITY LACKING! DEATH EATERS RUNNING RAMPANT!_

"Hey Harry, can I see that?" asked Mr. Weasley after he disentangled himself from his wife.

With that, Mrs. Weasley moved into the kitchen and began bustling around preparing breakfast. Mr. Weasley quickly skimmed the article, shaking his head occasionally. Once he finished, he sighed and handed the paper over to Percy who was looking at it curiously.

"Rita Skeeter does it again…" said Mr. Weasley in an exasperated voice. "All she ever does is completely twist the facts and start rumors."

"Personally, I just think that she hates the Ministry of Magic," Percy grounded out, a furious expression on his face. "Also, publishing this article at a time like this? When it can cause major negative changes in the upcoming months? Is she crazy?" As Percy continued to rant about the absurdity and stupidity of the reporter, an owl flew in and dropped a letter on the kitchen table.

Percy called out, "Arthur? It's for you, from the Ministry it seems."

"Oh, they want me to help clear up a few things regarding the World Cup, asking me to come in as soon as possible."

"I'll come as well, Dad. Mr. Crouch will need all the help he can get to smooth out any international problems that come up."

Grabbing a slice of toast each, the two men left the Burrow as quickly as they had returned, marking the start of the final week of summer.

* * *

"Jean, are you going to have to go into work today due to the World Cup incident?" asked Apolline, gently placing her cup of coffee down on the table.

"Probably," replied the head of the Delacour household. "The Minister will want to hear what happened from me since I was one of the few French Ministry members there. He'll also want to know if there will be any immediate political repercussions or changes in the upcoming events, but since there weren't any serious injuries or deaths, the meeting will most likely only last an hour or two."

"Though who knows what would've happened had Gabrielle not gotten away from those men…" murmured Fleur with a slight shudder.

"Speaking of Gabrielle, what caused you two to get split up? When I went off to help the British Aurors you two were heading towards the forest together."

"We were together, papa, then, somehow, amongst all the people I lost hold of her hand. By the time I turned around and looked for her, she had disappeared and that huge group of people had just forced me towards the forest. When I finally reached the forest I immediately tried looking for Gabrielle amongst all the people. But even as the number of people in the forest died down, I couldn't find her. Then when I saw the mark in the sky, I immediately feared the worst. That's when papa found me. After seeing that Gabrielle wasn't with me, he immediately went back out, telling me to stay put. I was terrified…what if something had happened to her?" Fleur managed to explain as she tried to block off the awful emotions from the previous night.

Gabrielle then proceeded to explain what exactly had happened that night.

* * *

"_Fleur! Take Gabrielle and get to the forest now! I'm going to help the British Aurors," Jean ordered as he ran towards the approaching flames._

"_Gabrielle, whatever you do, don't let go of my hand!" Fleur had to shout over the noise of the frightened mob and the dull crackling of the approaching flames._

_Holding each other's hands tightly, the two sisters went with the flood of witches and wizards running towards the forest. Popping noises were heard from all sides, though whether it was the popping and crackling of the fire or people Disapparating was unclear. A particularly loud crack sounded right in front of the two Veela sisters, startling them and causing their grip to loosen slightly. At that instant, somebody stumbled into Fleur's side, knocking her away from Gabrielle. Gabrielle frantically tried to find her sister by shoving her way through the mob, but the eight-year-old was barely able to keep her footing amongst all the larger wizards and witches. Caught up in the chaos of everything, she began to panic. Suddenly, someone's elbow smacked across her head, leaving her dazed. As she tried to regain her senses – *crack* – this time it was a hand striking her cheek as someone ran past. As she stood there, hands on her knees, disoriented, she noticed something. The ground had stopped shaking, the stampede of people had ended, and there were no more people running. As she shook her head, trying to clear her vision, she found that her vision wasn't clearing at all; the air seemed hazy. Taking a breath, she noticed that the air smelt different. Nervously, she looked around. The fire had nearly reached her. The smoke was reaching out, seeking to strangle her. Panic set in. Gabrielle began hyperventilating. In, out, in, out. Her breaths became faster. Shorter. And then, just as fast as it had come, the smoke disappeared, whisked away by the gentle night breeze._

_She stood there, calming herself and slowing down her breathing. Looking around once again, she viewed the destruction all around her. Countless tents, burnt to the ground. Red and orange flames leaping towards the night sky. In the midst of it all, she saw them, a terrifying sight. Black cloaks fluttering menacingly in the night breeze with ghostly white masks reflecting the orange and red of the flickering flames. When she looked closely, she noticed everything seemed to be cast in a green light. Looking up, she saw it: an image so menacing that it could only had come from the group of men who had so brazenly destroyed the campgrounds. Looking back towards said group of men, she realized that they had noticed her. As they began to stride towards her the fear from earlier began to set in once again. Gabrielle tried to run, but she her legs would just not move. And so she stood there, legs stuck to the ground in fear, eyes widening in terror._

_Then it happened. Somehow, she was moving. Fast. Faster than she had ever run. As the flash of spells flew by her, she looked around and saw that her legs were, in fact, off the ground. Startled, she glanced up, straight through a pair of glasses and into a set of emerald green eyes. Slowly she realized that she was being carried by a young man. Looking more closely, she saw a face covered in dirt and sweat. A flash of red light flew by her, exploding on a destroyed tent in a shower of sparks, causing her to shut her eyes and hold on even tighter in an attempt to shut out this terrible nightmare. The man ran for what seemed like an eternity. Then it was over. It stopped. The crackling of the fire, the flashes of light, the thudding of the man's feet on the ground. It all stopped. But she didn't have that long to enjoy new peacefulness as there was a sudden flood of voices speaking in English, a language which she barely understood. Then she heard it, that voice that had always promised her safety and warmth: the voice of her sister._

* * *

"Who was that man?" asked Apolline, curious as to who had saved her daughter from what would have surely been a terrible fate.

"We don't know, Mama," Fleur said in reply. "In fact, he wasn't even of age. He looked to be more around my age. His appearance was terrible though. His face was covered in dirt, his clothes looked like they had been stepped on, and his hair was plastered to his forehead by what seemed to be dried blood. I'd say that the only really memorable features were his eyes. Although, now that I think about it, he was talking in English to that huge group of redheads so he definitely doesn't go to Beauxbatons. He most likely goes to Hogwarts."

"Oh? Then in that case, you might run into him sooner than you might think," said Jean cryptically.

"What aren't you telling us? Is it something you heard from the Ministry?" asked Fleur, somewhat wanting to once again meet the boy who had saved her sister.

"Hm? I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about."

And with that, breakfast at Delacour Château ended with all the Delacours curious about the black-haired boy with green eyes and the possible upcoming encounter that Jean implied.

* * *

The final week of summer at the Burrow saw very little of Mr. Weasley and Percy, who were both constantly at the Ministry dealing with the aftermath of the World Cup. While those two were hard at work, the rest of the residents at the Burrow were trying to enjoy the last moments of summer as much as they could.

"Knight to E7, checkmate."

At that statement, Harry simply shook his head as he lost once again to Ron. As he stared at the pieces on the board, Ron suddenly brought up a topic from that one chaotic night.

"Hey Harry, you remember that girl you saved?" Surprisingly, the topic of the silver-haired sisters had been forgotten amidst the confusion and weariness that had followed the World Cup.

"Yea, kind of hard to forget." replied Harry, curious as to where Ron was going with this.

"I swear mate, she and her sister must be Veela. There's no way a normal human could look that good," said Ron in a slightly awed voice as he recalled that night. "Or at the very least, they have to be mixed bloods."

At that point, Hermione, who had been reading on one of the nearby chairs, could not help herself from snorting in derision and joining in the conversation.

"Why do wizards have such an obsession with blood? Remember in second year? With Malfoy and the whole 'Mudblood' incident? Like, I understand it's supposed to be an insult, but why are people so biased due to blood?" Hermione's sudden input also drew Bill into the conversation as he tried to explain and answer her questions.

"There have always been many pure-bloods in our society who have thought themselves to be of higher status and worth than any Muggle-born or half-blood. Some just take it more extreme than others; the most extreme group would be the Death Eaters that you saw the other night at the World Cup. Though, that night was the first time in thirteen years that the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark were spotted. Ever since the downfall of You-Know-Who, the number of extremely outspoken pure-bloods has gone down…" As Bill continued Harry suddenly remembered that he had written to Sirius about his scar hurting and the dream that had caused it. He had dreamt of Wormtail as well as another man attending to some_thing_ that based on the way they were acting and talking, could have only been Voldemort. Was there a connection between the dream and the Dark Mark? Harry wondered.

"…Mark was one of the most terrifying parts of the last war. Imagine what it would feel like to come home from a long day's work, only to see that green skull and snake floating above your house. From what I know, it was a terrible time, and seeing the Dark Mark once again can only mean that bad times are approaching."

"Bill Weasley! Stop trying to scare them," said Mrs. Weasley. "It's already evening and they have to go finish packing or else they won't make the train tomorrow." She handed Ron and Harry two packages. "These here are your dress robes; there was a letter from school saying that you would need them this year."

After cleaning up the chess set, the two of them as well as Hermione, who had already finished packing, went up to Ron's room to finish packing. Once there, they opened the packages that they Mrs. Weasley had handed them and –

"Bloody hell! I have to wear these?!" exclaimed Ron as he held up…something that vaguely resembled robes covered in ruffles.

"Uhmm…I'm sure we won't need to wear these often," Harry said, attempting to find a brighter side to Ron's current dilemma.

"That's easy for you to say...yours at least look normal," Ron muttered with a jealous look at Harry's solid black dress robes.

"Yeaa…Oh! Did I mention that I wrote to Sirius a few days before coming here?" Harry quickly said, not so subtly changing the subject in a quick attempt to avoid the topic of the difference in wealth between him and the Weasleys.

"Wait, why did you write to him?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I woke up one night because my scar was hurting, so I just wrote to him asking if he knew anything about it. I didn't tell him about the dream though." Harry then proceeded to describe the dream that he had had, as well as the connection that he made to the Dark Mark at the World Cup. Like he thought, Hermione immediately told him to write to Dumbledore while in the meantime she would go and try to research the subject in some of her books only to have Ron point out that it would all be pointless as they were returning to Hogwarts the next day. Hermione soon left to get ready for bed after grudgingly agreeing that the matter could simply wait for another day or so. After she left, Harry and Ron fell silent as they finished packing and went to sleep, both eager to return to Hogwarts.


End file.
